iTurn 25
by Annie Barde
Summary: It was like she was living her own rendition of Sixteen Candles. Except she was turning twenty-five. And she was no Molly Ringwald. .:AU Seddie, rated T for strong language:.
1. Part 1 of 2: SAM

**Author's Note:** I seriously don't know where I get my ideas from. Really.

Read and review anyway.

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><p>iTurn Twenty-Five<p>

Part 1 of 2: SAM

_Fuck_. _They fucking forgot my birthday_. It was like she was living her own rendition of _Sixteen Candles_. Except she was turning twenty-five. And she was no Molly Ringwald. (Coincidentally enough, Molly's character was named Sam too). She could probably bet that there was no Jake Ryan to woo her by the time the night was over, either.

Sam Puckett bitterly finished the rest of her beer at the bar counter, her third for the evening. She was sitting in front of the bartender, warily glancing around at the leery men surrounding her. Thankfully, she brought pepper spray, in case anyone was going to _try_ anything. That, or she could kick them in the balls. Either way would do.

Her head was starting to feel a bit woozy after she finished that last beer. Which was weird, because she could usually hold her liquor a lot better than this. She was the one who claimed she could drink at least _five_ beers and still walk in a straight line. Or perhaps that was just talk. Besides, she hadn't been so overly doing it drunk since her twenty-first birthday, four years earlier. Her best friend Carly had taken her to Vegas then (cliche, she knew), but that didn't make it any less fun. It was definitely top of her list for favorite birthday. Ever.

Alright, so maybe tuning twenty-five was a bigger deal to her than it should to anyone, and maybe it wasn't exactly a _milestone_, per se, but it was still her birthday. She was still turning one year older and she still demanded attention for it. It only came once a year, after all.

What she really needed more, though, was fresh air. The stuffiness of the bar was getting a bit too much.

She gingerly placed two dollar bills on the counter as a tip (she wasn't going to pay very much for extremely shitty beer, which it had been), grabbed her purse, and headed for the exit.

Once she was outside in the crisp spring air, she instantly felt much better. Calmed. Looking around, Sam vaguely recognized where she was. Before she had left her apartment a few hours earlier, still in her "woe-is-me" rage, she was intent on finding a bar, any bar, to take away her misery. She didn't realize she had ended up in this section of the city until now. And now it dawned on her that nobody she knew lived around here. Well, except maybe one person: Carly's good friend, Freddie Benson.

Sam had met Freddie a few times, in passing. His mother and Carly's mother were good friends and neighbors before the Bensons had moved out of Carly's apartment complex, Bushwell Plaza, when Carly and Freddie were just starting fifth grade. Carly later introduced Sam and Freddie when they were in high school, around sophomore year. They only saw each other a few times after that, before graduating, and Carly had moved out to Los Angeles to start her acting career. To Sam, Freddie seemed like a decent enough guy, albeit too nerdy for Sam's taste (her automatic disapproval when it came to him), but she was sure he'd be there for her while her chips were down. The idea of going to Freddie's seemed a whole hell of a lot better than winding up on the pavement in front of a...courthouse, or something.

It was settled. He would just have to let her crash at his place. It was her birthday, and she was alone. She didn't deserve to be alone.

~ x ~

Sam knew that Freddie's place was only a few blocks down from the bar, so she wandered towards the direction of his apartment, her pepper spray tucked away safely in her pocket. It was dark and there weren't too many streetlights lit, and she didn't want to take any chances.

She reached the apartment building shortly, which was small and crumbly looking. There were three floors and box outside the main door to buzz up the tenants. Sam quickly scanned the list, and found "F. Benson, 3A." Holding her breath, she pressed the button next to his name.

A chime rang, allowing Sam to climb the three flights of stairs up to Freddie's. She reached 3A, and knocked on the door twice. She waited. What would she do once she saw him, she didn't know.

The door opened a moment later, and Freddie stood in the doorway. _Whoa_. _Double take_.

His dark hair was rumpled (probably from him attempting to rip his hair out after staring at the computer for countless hours, frustrated by the programs he'd been working on all night), his tie was loosely hung around the collar of his untucked shirt, and he was looking at her with the most intense gaze anyone had ever given her, his dark brown eyes boring into her bright blue ones.

"Shit," she heard him mutter. Well. He clearly wasn't expecting _her_ to show up at his tonight.

Sam realized it had probably been about a year or two since she last saw Freddie, probably the last time when Carly had been home. Her eyes raked over his body again; since when did he look so damn _good_? If she wasn't feeling so damn lousy, she probably would have jumped him right then and there. It had been _so_ long since she had slept with a man. (Which she may or may not remember in the morning, but it would probably be the best experience of this otherwise fucked up birthday.)

"Sam?" Freddie said at last. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he remembered who she was.

"It's my birthday," she explained lamely.

"I'm...sorry?" he asked, not sure what she was getting at.

It occurred to Sam just then that even though they had met a few times, she had never told him such details like that. It was Carly and Freddie who were close, not _her_ and Freddie. And here she was, expecting him to apologize for missing her birthday.

"No one was there," she tried. "I went to a bar, and my friends never showed." She sighed. "It's my birthday, and I'm alone."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, more genuinely. "What a shitty thing to do." That seemed to be his choice of curse word tonight.

And before she had the chance to even thank him or smile or do anything, her stomach gave a violent lurch, and she ended up spewing all over Freddie's wooden floor.

_That_ was attractive.


	2. Part 2 of 2: FREDDIE

**Author's Note: **Enjoy the second part of iTurn Twenty-Five. (I still don't know where I get my ideas from.) Freddie's part is a bit longer, because his point of view concludes the story, and it's mostly compiled of dialogue and storytelling, rather than just thought process. (Although some of that is in here too.)

Read and review please. :)

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><p>iTurn Twenty-Five<p>

Part 2 of 2: FREDDIE

Freddie felt an annoying buzz in his pocket the next morning, waking him up from his otherwise peaceful (if not lack of) sleep. He sleepily opened his eyes, and was startled to find himself in the chair that he had next to the window of his bedroom, his arm folded over the armrest in a weird position. How could he have been comfortable _sleeping_ there?

He located the source of the buzzing, his cellphone, and noticed an envelope had appeared on the screen. A text message from Carly.

"FREDDIE, WHEN YOU WAKE UP, CALL ME."

Yeah...she can wait.

He glanced at the sleeping figure in his bed in front of him, the curled up figure snoring lightly, barely stirring. The figure was Sam, Carly's best friend, who he hadn't seen in awhile. Maybe two years ago or something like that. They had only met several times in the past, and he almost didn't recognize the drunk girl who had appeared at his doorstep last night...

Freddie had been on his computer since the minute he had come home last night from work, when he heard someone ringing the buzzer to his apartment. He got up, almost grateful for the distraction, but at the same time, annoyed. Who was coming to bug him at this hour?

But he was curious, so he let the visitor come up, waiting for the knocking.

Who he didn't expect, however, was Sam Puckett at the door. He had opened the door, surprised to see the blond woman standing there, looking a right mess. She looked slightly toasted; her cheeks were flushed from running up the stairs and hair had come loose from a ponytail.

"It's my birthday," she had said.

Um...okay?

But then she went on to say she had went a bar, and none of her friends were there celebrating, so she was all alone. And before Freddie could say anything, she had puked all over his floor.

Great.

"Don't worry about it," he said to Sam later, while he held her hair as she kept vomiting into the toilet in his cramped bathroom. "I'll clean it up."

"I'm so sorry," she kept repeating to him, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry."

Once she had finished using the toilet, he guided her to his room, where he helped her get out of her dress (without staring, obviously), and Freddie had handed Sam a shirt to change into. He helped her get into his bed, a glass of water at the ready on his bedside table and he proceeded to watch her until she fell asleep.

Assured that she would stay in his bed, he headed back to the doorway to clean up the mess on the floor, and figured he'd go back to the computer in the morning once had some rest. Exhausted, Freddie went back to his room to go check on her again, sitting on the chair he had woken up in.

Freddie got up from the chair, and went to the kitchen, so he could call Carly without waking Sam up. She probably wouldn't even get up for a long while anyway.

"Freddie? I got the part! _The_ part! The one I've been waiting for, the big one, it's everything I've always drea-"

"Carly," Freddie cut her off bluntly, "Sam is here."

Carly's tone shifted automatically into concern. "Sam? Why?"

"I don't know," he said tiredly, "She showed up at my place last night, drunk."

"Drunk?" Carly said. "Sam doesn't drink. Especially after her twenty-first...she was so gone that night. She swore she'd never drink again."

"That's just it, Carly," Freddie said. "Yesterday _was _her birthday. She said she went to a bar, none of her friends showed."

"I know it was, Freddie," Carly said, "I called her a couple days ago to let her know that I was thinking of her and I'd be going to some more auditions, but-"

"What do I do?" Freddie asked.

"She'll be _fine_, Freddie," Carly said. "Sam's a little melodramatic at times, but feed her a bacon and egg sandwich when she gets up, and she'll be fine."

He nodded slowly. "Okay, thanks."

They hung up, and Freddie automatically went into the fridge to get some food prepared.

He heard a noise from the doorframe. Sam. He rested his eyes on her as she closed hers and groaned as she leaned against the frame.

"Morning," Freddie said casually. "Hungry?"

"Thirsty," Sam crossed the kitchen to get a glass and turned on the tap. She drank, and after a moment, said, "Did I hear you talking to someone?"

"To Carly," Freddie replied. This was a bit awkward. Sure, Sam and Freddie didn't _really_ know each other, but Carly, well...she knew them both too well.

"What'd she say?" Sam asked.

"She said that I should feed you a sandwich and you'll be fine. How's your head?"

"A bit headache-y still." She shuddered. "I wonder what the hell they gave me in that beer last night. Never going back to that bar again."

"Probably for the best," he said, as he handed her a plate with the sandwich on it.

Sam sat down at the small table in the kitchen, and reluctantly started eating. "Mmmm," she said approvingly. "Hangover food."

Freddie smiled at her. "Glad you're starting to feel a bit better."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, swallowing. "I'm sorry about showing up here last night, the way I was."

"It's alright," Freddie assured her, joining her at the table with his own sandwich. "It's better that you came here than try to go home on your own."

They sat in silence for awhile, Freddie aware of the overhead clock ticking loudly. Seconds passed, they ate quietly, and they just sat there.

"Freddie..." Sam started, "Have you ever seen _Sixteen Candles_?"

"What?" Freddie asked, wondering how in the hell that question was relevant to anything.

"It's an old 80s movie," Sam explained (although he had been about to admit that he had seen it, one night when he was at Carly's when they were still in junior high or something like that). "It's about a girl who turns sweet sixteen and everyone kind of forgets, except the boy she's liked forever. He surprises her with a cake and they get together in the end. It's, like, my favorite movie of all time."

He simply stared at her in amazement. She was speaking so _animatedly_, so _vivid_. In the few times they had seen each other, they didn't really talk, so to see this side of her was kind of amusing.

"It just kind of reminded me of how my birthday turned out this year," she went on. "With the exception of the love interest sweeping me off my feet with a birthday cake. Oh, and getting drunk," she said as an afterthought.

She seemed so mellow, so down. Freddie knew this wasn't exactly the kind of birthday she'd been hoping for (it was pretty shitty to not celebrate with anyone, no matter how old you were), and since she was here now, he might as well make it worth remembering.

"Wait here," he said to her, getting up from the table, and grabbing his keys.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Where are you going?"

"Just wait right here," Freddie pleaded. "I'll be back in 10 minutes." On that note, he fled the apartment, down the flights of stairs, and exited the building. He caught his breath as soon as he was outside.

He knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going. The bakery around the corner.

"Can I help you?" asked the girl tidying up the cake racks behind the counter.

"I need a cake. A big chocolate one." Freddie said. "With strawberries on top."

"Like this one here?" the girl said, gesturing to the cake.

"I'll take it," he said, as he paid for the cake, thanked the girl, and went right back to the apartment, trying to race back up the stairs as carefully as he could without dropping the cake.

"Sam," he said, moments later, as he walked into the living room. "Close your eyes. I have a..._surprise_ for you."

She was still sitting at the table, but she automatically closed her eyes. "Okay...this is weird..."

"Just wait," he told her. He set the cake on the table, and lit it. "Now Sam," he said, "I want you to carefully climb up on the table and sit on it."

"Wait, what?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"I'll help you," he said coming to her, taking her outstretched hand, and guiding up onto the table. She sat crossleggedly and waited.

He sat on the table, on the other side of the cake. "Now you can open your eyes, Sam."

She did as she was told. "What's all this?"

"Happy birthday, Samantha." he said warmly, quoting Jake Ryan from _Sixteen Candles_. "Make a wish."

She grinned at him. She knew where this was going now.

"It already came true," she whispered, as she leaned over the cake, expecting a kiss from Freddie.

Which he did.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The end. Love it, hate it? Tell me! And brownie points to you, if you've seen _Sixteen Candles_ and you can totally pick up on what I'm doing. Yay! :)


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